


Can't Shake Me

by LadyKnightOfHollyrose



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Future Fish, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Romance, Slice of Life, free rare pair week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:25:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKnightOfHollyrose/pseuds/LadyKnightOfHollyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisumi drags a hand though his matted hair as he fumbles for his keys in a daze.</p>
<p>It’s been a particularly long (and trying) shift for him; just one thing after another in a rapid fire with barely a moment between calls to catch his breath.</p>
<p>No rest for the wicked, or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Shake Me

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt 'Future Fish AU' for Rare Pair Week on tumblr
> 
> Kisumi’s an Emergency Services Dispatcher in this AU

Kisumi drags a hand though his matted hair as he fumbles for his keys in a daze.

It’s been a particularly long (and trying) shift for him; just one thing after another in a rapid fire with barely a moment between calls to catch his breath.

No rest for the wicked, or something.

Making a small noise of triumph as he manages to slot his key into the door and shoulder his way through, he sighs and drops his bag right there in the middle of the hallway, kicking off his shoes as he does. His spine pops as he stretches towards the ceiling, and he takes a moment to hang his keys on their designated hook before venturing further into the apartment.

He slouches into the bedroom to change into something more comfortable, the soft drone of the television from the lounge loosening some of the lingering tightness in his shoulders.

He shrugs into a loose shirt and ties back the longer strands of his hair that hang in his face. Then he finally allows himself a small smile, calling out “I’m home!” just loudly enough to carry through the door.

He’s not expecting any kind of response, either way.

About half an hour before Kisumi’s shift had been due to end, Asahi had taken a call reporting concerns about a nearby research facility going up in smoke. Makoto would still have been on shift at the time, so, he concludes, it’s probably Sousuke vegging out on the couch.

Kisumi’s proven right when he ambles into the lounge a few moments later and is greeted by drooping blue eyes and a rather lazy wave. Kisumi’s sure that if he hadn’t had to change into civilian attire before leaving the station Sousuke would probably have his policeman’s had covering his eyes.

“Hey.”

The greeting is gruff and tired, but Kisumi accepts it with a beam despite his own exhaustion.

He leaves Sousuke to monopolise the couch and sinks down in front of it on the floor, tilting his head back so that it rests on Sousuke’s knee.

“Hey.” Kisumi closes his eyes; he can feel Sousuke shifting behind him. “Makoto’ll probably be a bit late; they got called out about an hour ago, and the fire didn’t sound like a small one.”

Sousuke hums behind him. “I must’ve caught him just before that then; asked him to pick up dinner on the way home.”

Kisumi grins. “I knew we kept you around for a reason.”

Sousuke snorts and leans forward to pinch the side of Kisumi’s shoulder lightly in retaliation. When Kisumi’s eyes look up at him, Sousuke has a brow raised in amusement, the corner of his lip ticking up into a smile. “Yeah, that doesn’t explain why  _you’re_  here though.”

Kisumi sticks his tongue out at him.

Then he winces as whatever show Sousuke had been watching shifts into a commercial break, the volume swelling sharply as it does. Sousuke doesn’t miss it.

“Headache?” He asks quietly, thumb trailing lightly across Kisumi’s forehead.

"Mhmm. Can I talk you into giving me a massage?" Kisumi flutters his lashes at him, though he’s unsure as to how effective it is when viewed upside down.

Sousuke flicks his ear. “Cheeky. I thought you said Makoto had ruined you for anyone else’s massages?”

"You’re getting so much better at it though! I mean Makoto is Makoto, but you’re no slouch either."

"Uh huh." Sousuke’s tone remains unconvinced, but that doesn’t stop him from gently tugging the tie from Kisumi’s hair and threading his fingers through to knead lightly at his scalp. "Well if you want any  _more_  from Makoto in future I wouldn’t mention the praise to him.”

Feeling any remaining tension drain from his frame, Kisumi sinks back against the couch bracketed between Sousuke’s legs, making a small noise of enquiry at the back of his throat.

"He’ll dump you on me so he has more time to play with the kitten."

That startles a bark of laughter from Kisumi. “That would totally be his reason, too,” he chuckles, the corners if his eyes crinkling in his mirth.

"Nanase would definitely approve too. Encourage it, even."

Kisumi lets Sousuke tilt his head forward so that he can get his thumbs to the base of his skull while he grumbles under his breath.

"Probably. He’s warming up to you though, didn’t he send some of those macarons that you like back with Makoto last week? The cappuccino ones?"

Sousuke grunts in sullen acknowledgement, but there’s no real heat behind it.Anyway, Kisumi had seen the way his brows had risen, begrudgingly impressed, as he’d taken a cautious bite out of the first one.

Makoto had been particularly pleased by the olive branch.

“He should have sent something for you too,” Sousuke huffs. “You ended up eating half of them.”

“Aaaand that’s  _probably_  why he didn’t.”

Sousuke’s scowl is boarding dangerously on being a full blown pout; Kisumi spares a moment to internally mourn the fact that Makoto isn’t home to see it since he’d definitely think it adorable.

He’s just about to point this out (since Sousuke has abandoned the actual massage and is instead just tugging the ends of Kisumi’s hair now – and  _this_  is why Makoto is better) when they hear a quiet shuffling by the door. If Kisumi concentrates, he thinks he hears a soft thump, followed quickly by a disgruntled hiss. Then the door opens, and he can hear Makoto’s delight at being greeted at the door by his baby ball of fluff.

True to his word, Sousuke retracts his hands just before Makoto wanders into the lounge, hair dishevelled and kitten in hand.

He also manages to beat Kisumi to his feet as he strides over to Makoto to welcome him home. But that’s okay. Kisumi watches with a smile as Sousuke gives Makoto a quick peck and relieves him of their dinner, taking it into their kitchenette to serve.

There’s a slight smudge of soot under Makoto’s eye, his nose wrinkling a little as he tries to hide a small yawn with his now-free arm, but his lips curl up at the corners in content. Kisumi likes to think it’s because he’s finally home (where his heart is) but it could also be something to do with the purring mess of fur he has cradled in the crook of his arm.

He figures the kitten has had his share of Makoto’s attention though. Climbing slowly to his feet, Kisumi leans in for his own kiss, though it’s slower and longer than the one Sousuke had given. The kitten wriggles itself free and flees the space between them; Kisumi presses his grin to Makoto’s collar.

He smells faintly of smoke, though most of it is masked by the soap he must have used at the fire station and sandalwood. “I’m home,” he says softly, smiling down at where Kisumi is making himself comfortable.

Kisumi opens his mouth to reply, but ends up yelping as Sousuke walks by after using a tea towel to  _literally_  whip his ass.

“Welcome home,” he says to Makoto sweetly, stealing another quick kiss before disappearing back into the kitchenette. Kisumi whines pitifully while Makoto chuckles at them.

Still, he does move back reproachfully when Sousuke walks by again, if only to preserve what feeling he has in his ass left before Sousuke can attack him again.

It doesn’t take long from there for the three of them to settle into their places cuddled up on the couch, dinner in hand; ready to watch whatever movie Sousuke has picked out for them to watch tonight.

Later, Makoto snuggles into his right shoulder drowsily while Sousuke slings an arm over the other (burying his hand into Makoto’s hair); Kisumi sighs in content. Because even if the trysts he’d imagined in high school were certainly far more titillating than how very  _domestic_  his life has become, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> One domestic slice-of-life plotless fluffy ot3 fic, fresh out of the oven, with no beta-ing. XD Hope it turned out okay, considering how long I ended up spending on it (and the fact that it’s the first thing I’ve been able to write for a while!) and how much I struggled with balancing the three of them even though Makoto only shows up for a bit at the end ^^’


End file.
